Reconstruction
by WiliQueen
Summary: The asteroid scare is over, Spark is history...but Natalie's life is still not going to be much fun for a little while. Completed May 1995.


Nick had said something. "What?" Natalie asked, wrenching her attention from the very dead vampire sprawled across her bed.

"It was a hoax," Nick repeated, taking her hand and putting his other arm around her shoulders. "The world isn't going to end." He kissed her forehead, the sweet gesture making a confusing contrast to the violence of a moment before.

She found herself staring at the corpse again, taking several seconds for the words to make sense. "The world isn't...oh, God. Thank God. My God, I'm an idiot."

"No, Nat. Exhausted and upset and afraid, just like everyone else. You're _human_."

Even now, when the adrenalin was clearing out and the alcohol definitely wasn't, she had to laugh at that. "No thanks to me. This is my own damn fault." Frowning, she finally registered what wasn't right here. "Nick, shouldn't he--" Before she finished the question, the dead vampire suddenly...well, sort of folded in on himself; and a moment later there was nothing there. "Oh." She gulped. "Convenient, that." The room was rapidly developing a most disagreeable tilt that couldn't seem to decide which direction it wanted to go. "'Scuse me. I think I have to be sick now." She got about four hurried steps across the room before stumbling, and Nick was right there, slipping an arm around her waist to escort her to the bathroom without obviously supporting her. Nice of him.

"Easy, Nat. You'll be okay." Sure. Easy for him to say. She couldn't remember ever feeling quite this awful, too awful to even be embarrassed--not that she expected that to last. For now, though, she was grateful for his assistance. "Just take it easy." He helped her settle by the toilet just before she lost the battle with her rebellious stomach.

Somewhere amid the spasms she was aware of Nick removing her necklace and pulling back her hair, loosely and a bit awkwardly twisting a scrunchie around it to keep it out of her way. He was more adept at slipping her jacket off--under other circumstances she might have been tempted to tease him about that--and then found her nightgown hanging on the back of the door, somehow managing to unzip her dress and get the nightgown over her head simultaneously. A moment later she was safely in the nightgown and her shoes were set aside, her dress, jacket, and stockings neatly folded on the counter. Under other circumstances she would _definitely_ have teased him about that skill; but he had accomplished the entire process without a second's exposure, and the comfy cotton nightgown was definitely better suited to this unpleasant position. "Thanks," she managed as he wrung out a cold washcloth and placed it on the back of her neck, dulling the next incipient wave of nausea.

"You're welcome." Still his voice held no judgment, only concern; and he patiently waited out the last few spasms, gently rubbing her back with the palm of his hand. "Better?" he asked when anything that had even thought about being in her stomach was history.

"Yeah. Which isn't saying much." She tried to get up, and the world lurched, prompting a couple more heaves from her very sore stomach.

"No." Nick set his hands on her shoulders to prevent her making another such attempt. "You can't get up and try to be normal. You'll just keep getting sick." With a wry little smile, he added, "You've never been this drunk before, have you?"

"Offhand...don't think so. Don't think I'll do it again." She regarded him curiously. "Voice of experience?"

He chuckled at that. "I was a soldier, not a saint. And I remember it much more clearly than I care to sometimes. You are in the care of an expert, milady. Now put your arms around my neck; I'm carrying you."

She must feel better; now she was getting embarrassed. "Nick..."

"Trust me, Nat, you can be stubborn and self-sufficient tomorrow."

"It _is_ tomorrow."

"No, it's three in the morning, you're very drunk and almost became someone's lunch a little while ago, and _I_ will feel much better if you let me take care of you. Okay?"

"I...okay." She couldn't argue with that and expect to win, and right at the moment she didn't really want to.

Did she imagine that she could sense his vast leashed strength as he picked her up, or was it just that he lifted her a bit too easily? Either way she was grateful to have that strength protecting her, even though she felt like twelve flavors of fool for needing protection. "I'm...sorry about your bedroom," he told her sheepishly. "I lost it for a minute there. I'll straighten it out with your landlord." Gathering her closer, he kissed her forehead again, whispering, "I almost lost _you_. I'm so sorry, Nat."

"For what?" she asked as he set her down on the couch, locating a pillow and blanket for her in remarkably short order. "I did this to myself, Nick. My God, I never even found out his name!"

"It doesn't matter. You're safe now. Just get some rest."

Safe. Natalie didn't even know what that meant any more; and whatever Nick might say, it really was her own damn fault. It was a good thing she trusted him, because it was now obvious she couldn't trust herself. She'd thought she knew who she was, what she wanted. Now she knew only that she could never really be safe, no from her own fears and doubts and sneaky little demons.

But she had agreed to let Nick take care of her tonight, let him hold back the demons for her so she could sleep off the consequences of listening to fear. So for his sake as well as her own she accepted the illusion of safety, let him tuck it snugly around her along with the fluffy beige blanket. She knew well enough that it wouldn't last.

"Think you can handle some water?" Nick asked. "You're probably pretty dehydrated."

For a moment she considered the half-settled state of her stomach and the acid-sour ghost of an assortment of drinks that had tasted much better the first time around. "Yeah. I think that's a good idea." She felt a little better now, she decided as Nick went to fetch a glass of water; she also decided not to test the theory that it was only because she was sitting still. In spite of the blanket she felt a chill--she'd been cold much of the evening, really, the false warmth of increasing intoxication never entirely masking it. That chill--and a hefty shot of anger at being treated like an irresponsible adolescent--had kept her awake when Janette had left her in the back room to rest.

Truth be told, the vampire woman had been more considerate of her guest's dignity than she would ever have expected, offering to call Nick "when you've collected yourself" or to provide transportation herself if Natalie preferred not to see him. It must have been obvious that they'd argued, but Janette hadn't pried; nor had she attempted to force or hypnotize Natalie to accept her hospitality, merely offered it as a courtesy. Of course, she had probably assumed--rightly--that the mortal was approaching the verge of passing out anyway; and if Natalie had attempted to return to the partying crowd, no doubt the club owner would have either been more persuasive or simply thrown her out.

Still, the glamorous vampire's apparent concern was puzzling. What should it matter to her if Natalie got herself in hot water, whether the world was going to end or not? It would be easy to assume that Janette simply wished to avoid trouble with Nick, but there had to be more to it than that--she certainly didn't seem to care what Nick thought of her on other subjects, or to shy away from disagreements over his "foolish mortal concerns."

A puzzle for another time; Nick was back with her water. "Easy, Nat. Small sips. Take your time; we don't need any more express trips to the bathroom."

"No kidding," she agreed, forcing herself not to gulp down the whole glass at once. Her stomach muscles were sore enough already, and she did _not_ want to stir up that mess again. But she hadn't registered how thirsty she was until the water was in her hands; too drunk to notice, probably. And the nasty part was, it wasn't even fun any more. After all, she hadn't planned to still be human by the time this stage hit. God, she was stupid.

Nick was sitting beside her, arm around her shoulders again; and it occurred to her to be surprised he would want to be close to her after what she'd done tonight. "More?" he asked, taking the empty water glass from her hand.

"No, thanks. That'll be fine."

"Okay." He set the glass aside and put the scrunchie from her hair beside it, combing his fingers through her hair from underneath to let it fall around her shoulders.

Another had touched her that way some while earlier, and Nick did not miss her slight shudder at the thought. "Nat? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, banishing the stranger from her mind's eye. "I'm fine."

"Or you will be, anyway." Fluffing the pillow he had fetched for her, Nick gave it his place at the end of the couch. "Come on, you need to get some rest."

Natalie needed no further prompting; her head felt like it was full of rocks and she gladly lay down while Nick tucked the blanket securely around her again and sat on the floor by the couch, smoothing her hair back from her face. The little smile he gave her was encouraging, but even through the blur of alcohol and sheer exhaustion she could see the worry behind it. No anger, though, not the sense of betrayal she expected; was she just not seeing clearly enough for that? "Nick, can I ask you something...really ungrateful?"

"Of course. Anything."

She paused a moment, then blurted, "Why did you say no?"

The wounded look in his eyes was hidden in a flash, but Natalie spotted it all the same. "Because I was afraid it would destroy you, a piece at a time. I couldn't be responsible for what you might become. And I...couldn't stand the thought that you would hate me for it sooner or later. Probably sooner." He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Selfish reasons. But I can't be sorry, Nat."

"No." It was little more than a noncommittal noise; right now it was all she could give him, though she knew he deserved far better.

But he seemed to think it would do. "We should talk about this tomorrow. You need to sleep."

Like she was going to stay awake if she tried, with the blanket finally driving the chill from her bones and Nick's soothing touch on her hair. "Are you trying to hypnotize me?" she accused, half-joking and half-asleep already.

"I might if you don't stop talking and get some rest," he threatened with a chuckle. "And you're wiped out enough that I might even manage it. So good night, sleep tight...and remember I won't let _anything_ bite."

She had to laugh at that. "Okay, _Daddy_...and Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome." He kissed her right between the eyes, prompting reflex to close them; and Natalie let them stay that way.

"Sleep well, Nat. You're safe now."

She held onto that thought as sleep claimed her, forgetting for the moment that it was a lie. Just before she dropped off, she heard a series of beeps that she hadn't quite identified as the dialing of a cellular phone before Nick's quiet voice followed: "Janette? I found her. She's okay." There was a pause, then, "Yeah. Thanks."

When the last whisper filtered in, she was really already asleep; perhaps she even dreamed it. "Sweet dreams, Nat. I love you."

* * *

"She told me I was right not to bring her across." The Raven seemed more subdued than usual tonight, or was it just by comparison to the recent Decameron excesses?

Janette took a sip from her glass before replying. "You don't sound convinced."

Shaking his head, Nick elaborated, "She looked so lost. So small. She barely even looked at me." He didn't know why he was telling her this, except that she had asked; and she was the only one he _could_ talk to right now. "And I have no idea how to help her."

"That all depends on what she must do, doesn't it?"

"Almost five years," he mused, staring at the untouched glass Brianna had wordlessly served him. "She was so innocent, Janette. A beacon in my darkness. I need that light...but every moment I'm near her it gets a little dimmer."

Reaching for his hand, Janette said, "She's a grown woman, Nicolas, and she has stepped into our world of her own volition. Perhaps...innocence is no longer what she needs."

"You think I should have done it, don't you?"

"That's not for me to say." She squeezed his hand. "Why do you make things so complicated? You love her, and you did what you believed to be right."

"And what do you believe?" Nick persisted.

She considered the question for a long moment. "As I said, I can't speak for you. But if she had chosen to come to me, I would have given what she asked." She frowned at him. "Don't look at me that way, Nicolas. I keep my word. I will never take her against her will, or permit another to do so. But I am not bound to honor your wishes in violation of hers. She is not your child or your property, and such a choice would be hers alone."

Taken aback, Nick pointed out, "But you say she chose to go with Spark. Why did you try to stop her then?"

"You think I would let that pretentious brat have her?" Janette snorted. "Please, give me _some_ credit, _ch__é__ri_. He might have killed her right here in the club; he certainly lacked the control to bring her over. If he even intended to, which I doubt; unless he meant to feed his ego by enslaving her." She laughed grimly. "Which would have proved a rude awakening for him, if he _had_ possessed the ability to make her one of us." Taking another sip from her glass, she mused on this a moment. "But he didn't. And while her life is her own to do with as she sees fit, I don't wish to see her cheated of it." With an odd smile, she inquired, "Does that surprise you?"

"A little," Nick admitted. "I still don't understand why it matters to you."

"Don't you?"

"No." No explanation was forthcoming, and Nick wasn't certain he wouldn't rather she were indifferent to Natalie's fate. He felt a little unreasonable, mistrusting Janette's apparently genuine concern, but he couldn't help it. It just didn't add up.

"Then I suppose you'll have to give it some thought, won't you?" Janette dropped the teasing tone, and the question with it. "_Écoute_. If you must have my opinion, I do think you were right to refuse her. But what is right for you is not always right for me."

All this troubled him--until last night, he had assumed Nat was entirely off-limits, and he didn't like this uncertainty. "Janette, for my sake...will you extend your promise? I don't want anyone to take her or harm her under _any_ circumstances. Please do this for me."

"No," she told him flatly. "I would have brought her over if she had asked me last night, and I will likely do the same if she chooses to ask tomorrow, or next week, or next year."

"You told me once that _you_ lacked the control. 'Not the mothering type,' wasn't it?" He spoke more harshly than he'd intended, and tried to tone it down before adding, "Can you be certain _you_ wouldn't cheat her?"

Janette smiled serenely. "Let's just say...I've matured. As you should do, if you believe you can keep her on that pedestal at the expense of her freedom." She finished her glass at a leisurely pace, waiting for his response; but he had none. "But this is all supposing. She did not ask me; nor, I suspect, will she do so in the foreseeable future. She says you were right to refuse her; take her at her word and get past this thing." Making a shooing gesture, she added, "Go. Talk to her. You're cluttering up my club with your brooding."


End file.
